


After

by d_dormant



Category: Maleficent (Disney Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Awkward Maleficent is awkward, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Missing Scene, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28944918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_dormant/pseuds/d_dormant
Summary: Bending over his ash-covered face, she knew she was really seeing him for the first time.
Relationships: Diaval & Maleficent (Disney), Diaval/Maleficent (Disney)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	After

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [После](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/747609) by Дормант. 



> Hello there! I am back back back again, only this time in English. The more I study German, apperantly, the more I forget English, as if it wasn't rubbish to begin with, so translating my own old stuff seemed like a good excercise. Not to mention that, I assume, more people here speak English than Russian (i guess nobody's perfect). 
> 
> If you have, however, read my other stories and left a comment that I left unreplied to, I'm very sorry! I was too excited to answer right back, and then I postponed and postponed, and then it was too late to reply and not make it awkward. So, yeah, I'll try not to be rude this time and answer. If you leave a comment, that is :)
> 
> One more thing before I sign off. "Mal" in many Romanic and Germanic languages means "harm" or "pain" or "evil".  
> "Lef" sounds like "lief" or "lēof" in Old English, which means "dear, beloved" (at least that's what the Wiktionary said).

When the body of King Stefan gave off warmth to the ground, when the newly acquired wings, dusty and itchy, drooped wearily behind, when the frightened princess suddenly matured and dissuaded the guards from attacking again, when the flame died out and the dust almost settled, Maleficent returned to her dragon.

He was laying in the same position as before, toppled by mammocks of the fallen column, surrounded by iron and a viscous dark liquid - Maleficent instantly fell to him until she saw that there was breathing, and then she was angry with herself for not having returned afore.

Snap! - and Diaval - breathless, bloody, burned Diaval the Man - lay in front of her. Eyes, black, but glowing unusually with golden magic, clung to her face as in entrancement; stained lips parted, but did not utter a sound: in attempts to stop the fire the warriors strangled her dragon, and the air barely passed through.

Fixing that was the first thing. She ran her fingers over the formidable scarlet marks on his neck and face, allowing him to respire. He took several noisy, rough-hoarse breaths, still incomplete and heavy, and spoke without taking his eyes off her. 

"You came back".

She set to work on the tear in his side. Whatever was thrust there, currently fell out and left behind a large hole, on which new blood never ceased to appear. Summoning the remnants of her power, well spent today, the fairy put her palm against the wound.

“Of course I came back,” she muttered. She did not know which tone to resort to: the sight of Diaval was terrifying, and she wanted to be gentle with him, with her only warrior, her bravest dragon, but keeping him safe and sound required firmness. "Surely you didn't think I would..."

She paused, not knowing how she was going to end this sentence.

"I need to...", he was still gasping, now, probably from pain. "...tell you..."

"Tell me later". The maim on the side was patched up, still painfully red but no longer hazardous. There were, however, burns in the shoulder area - most likely from his own fire.

“There'll be... no later,” he breathed. She turned to him, looking at the body heretofore. The gaze of his amber eyen rushed up and into the distance, above the broken ceiling; perhaps he didn't even know he was being treated. The sentences were as short as possible, concise as those of birds, and it was scary. He did this when it was difficult to express himself.

Obviuosly, this was not the worst thing.

“Quit this nonsense.” A slimy fear creeped into her own voice - what if he was right? “You will live,” she shut up both: her birdie and her voice. Certainly, he will. The debt has not yet been paid. Even if... even if the strong jaw of the dragon pulled off the iron chains tonight, even if there were no obligation remained, he will survive. She needed him alive. She needed him, she couldn't do this without him...

“At least… I saw you…” He gazed at something above her, and she turned around - and found only a pair of wings. Of course. "Beautiful."

She heard admiration and exhaustion, a great relief - and at the same time there was that haste in her voice, as if he was hurrying up to say something before it was too late. But the worst injuries and cuts were healed - with alleviation, she realized the worst was over. He will live, he only had to rest.

"Thank you, Diaval." There was so much she needed to thank him for, but that's for later. It can wait. "Rest for now."

"Wait!" Grimey black fingers dug into her wrist resting on his chest. The companion rised, tried to get up, but to no avail. He exhaled, threwing back his head. "Maleficent."

The whisper carried only the middle of the call to her. Lef. Diaval did not address her by name - always "mistress", always "my lady", but he did joke once, having learned that other inhabitants of the Moors (and someone else, too) used to call her Mal as a child. “Well, that's no good,” he snorted, as if someone seeked his opinion, “as if your name is too short to come up with something better. You mean to tell me they could have called you "Lef" and settled on " _Mal_ "? What kind of friends are these?"

"Lef."

The leather bandage was lost some time ago - dark hair, like curtains, hid their faces from anyone who dared to cast a glance. Damn it, she knew what he was going to say.

Bending over his ash-covered face, she knew she was really seeing him for the first time.

He would always call her Lef if she allowed. The look he gave her in the forest, when she stated that love does not exist, the way his face fell, his eyes grew dim when she unwittingly rejected him! Hollowed her to the castle, fought with an army and the mad man of a king. Stayed next to her. Did he have to be prostrate on the stone floor for her to finally realise?

She was scared to hear these words, but she longed for them even more.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Just like that. He pronounced, as if signing a sentence to himself, but her heart settled down and started singing.

She couldn't answer. Therefore, she kept silent, removed the dirty hair from his face as delicately as she allowed herself, and began to heal the battered chin. He caught a glimpse of a golden glow out of the corner of his eye and writhed.

"No, no, no-no-no!" he moaned, dodging his head from her talons. "Don't! Won't help."

“Diaval, you are not at death's door,” she sighed, fighting the urge to say something silly. "You shall live, do not worry."

Her assurances, if anything, only frightened him further.

"But I _must_ die!" the familiar wheezed. "I said I love you because I will die anyway!" he averted his gaze and, as if just now noticing his improving breathing, continued with rising speed and panic, "What will I do if I survive, how can you do that to..."

"Don't be an idiot." She rolled her eyes in response. Her powers were thin now, and one could only hope the rest would wait until tomorrow, when they returned home. Scars on the chest, on the arms remained, so probably did the terrible bruises on the back from the collapsed column. She feigned a look of nonchalance, brushing the dirt off his face. Magic could be dispensed with, she could make do with just her touch. “What will you do… continue to display your feelings so that I can return them."

A moment's silence. Then his eyebrows went up.

"What?"

"You heard me."

“Oh, oh, _no_ ,” he croaked, “don’t you… what did you say?"

"That I love you, too."

She grabbed the servant by the armpits and slowly dragged him to the nearest pilaster left intact. This saved her the trouble of looking at his face.  
Offhandedly thrown with his back to the marble, gray with dust, he caught his breath, gulping, not taking his burning gaze away from her, dazed and disbelieving. Now she was looking right back at him. They blinked at each other in unison, and he chuckled.

"Good to know," he smiled, relieved and delighted. "Damn, now I'm really ready to die." Suddenly the gold flashed brighter, as he raised himself to her seated figure. Voice quieter, lower, “I can kiss you if you want."

"No way," Maleficent smiled with a strange mixture of mockery, with sympathy and bottomless tenderness looking at the picture of sadness on the face of her... lover? "Not now. Only when you make it through the night."

"Damn it!" Diaval leaned back in disappointment - and imprinted his head into the ledge just nicely. "I really could die, you know?"

“I do not, and tell me no such thing,” the fairy bent over his cured body, peering into his face. "You shall stay a bird overnight, and, be a dear, live. Live and dream of the True Love's Kiss, is it clear? Let it whip you up," she delivered earnestly, but then could not resist and smirked. The raven caught her eye, shaking shoulders in soundless laughter, exhaled in portions, and nodded, licking his lips.

"Alright."


End file.
